


Later

by DeathjunkE



Series: Junke's Drips and Drabs [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-04
Updated: 2010-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 21:51:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathjunkE/pseuds/DeathjunkE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love just wasn’t in the cards for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Later

**Author's Note:**

> **Feedback:** Yes, please  
>  **Title:** Later  
>  **Words:** 382  
>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Warnings:** None

It was nothing that she expected. As a matter of fact she didn’t really expect anything to begin with --Never had and never would. She was never even an after though. When the boys wanted to look at something pretty they flirted with Daphne. When they wanted a shag they brought their best offerings to Pansy. If the were looking for fun then it was Parvati they played with.

She was mundane Millicent. Brown hair, brown eyes, almost brown skin and a body like a brick heavy and unappealing. The ugly duck who’d die an old lonely spinster. Her jaw was square, her arms and legs thick with muscle and flesh, her breast only a few inches wider than her waist and her voice rather coarse for a woman.

Love just wasn’t in the cards for her.

It was in the stars—or the Astronomy tower to be more precise.

She curled up on one of the hidden balconies, away from the necking couples in the main atriums. With a glossy new quidditch quarterly, a bowl filled with grapes and the green comforter from her bed. As always it was quiet, and it was bright and lonely. With a snort she tossed the mag over the railing and rested her head on her knees.

“Hey, the new quidditch quarterly?”

An annoyed huff and a muttered, “Figures…” drew the attention of the speaker.

“Hey, you dropped this.” Sure enough the youngest Weasley was hovering on the other side of the railing. Their eyes met through the bars. His left hand was outstretched and clutching the magazine. “Bul-Bulstrode? Well, I got to say, I never took you for the quidditch fan.”

“Yeah, well…I am.”

“Really? What team do you follow? Puddlemore? Harpies? Magpies?”

She snorted, it was unladylike but she didn’t give a damn. “The Cannons. I’ve got no patience for fair weather fans.”

A wide boyish grin spread across his face. “Is that so?” he drawled, swinging his feet over the railing and he throwing himself down in a loose sprawl across from her.

In that moment she didn’t see the little gap between his teeth or the cluster of freckles that looked like dirt on his nose or his hand-me-down cable knit sweater, there would be time to see all of that later.


End file.
